


You don't owe me anything (the offering is already mine.)

by barthelme



Series: Where we know. [6]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, BART STUCK TO A PLAN, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Pool Boy Timmy, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: Mr. Hammer forgets to pay his pool boy, so he comes to collect what he's earned.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Where we know. [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1117302
Comments: 82
Kudos: 262





	You don't owe me anything (the offering is already mine.)

Armie peaks out the window before he opens the door. It’s the pool boy. Armie sighs. Strokes his jaw and then looks down. Pulls his swim trunks an inch lower and releases the last two buttons on his loud floral shirt. Laughs as he thinks, _Timmy, Timmy, Timmy._

Turns to Olive, who is anxiously waiting at his heels. Says, “Stay,” and grins as she wags her tail expectantly. 

He pulls open the door and leans against the frame. One arm outstretched above his head, the other on his hip. “Timmy,” he grins. “I was expecting you tomorrow,” he explains. 

Timmy’s wearing jean shorts that hang too low on his hips and a yellow t-shirt with his college’s mascot emblazoned on the front. A lion. Probably one of those free ones they give you during welcome week. It’s too big, but it somehow makes his body look better. Hangs loose at the neck and billows around his thin arms. Shows where his body is slim, stretches to reveal a subtle broadness that Armie wants to--fuck, he shouldn’t want to. He _really_ shouldn’t, because Timmy’s barely out of high school--press against a hard surface and--

“Mr. Hammer, I’m sorry. I should have called,” Timmy says. “I know you’re very busy, but I just,” he pauses and licks his lips. Pushes his hair back from his face (and Armie tries not to think about how he wants to thread his fingers through those curls. Yank his head to the side and just bite that fucking neck that’s so long and with that stupid shirt revealing his collarbones, the start of a shoulder, he won’t even have to pull at the fabric to get more, more, more) sighs. “Sorry, I’m terrible at this stuff. It’s just that you didn’t, you know, pay me for last month. And I know you’re good for it and normally I wouldn’t even say anything but I need to make a payment for school and--”

“I didn’t pay?” Armie ponders more to himself than to Timmy. “Shit, I think you’re right, Timmy. I was traveling a lot last month so I must have…” He waves off the words and then steps back. “Come in, come in. I just have to find my checkbook. You’re okay with dogs, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, which is great because Olive immediately attacks him. Butts her head against his knees, whole body thrumming with excitement. Timmy’s quick to step in. Kick his flip flops off and reaches down to ruffle her ears, the scruff of her neck before following Armie through the foyer to the kitchen. “I really appreciate it, Mr. Hammer. I really didn’t want to mention it but--”

“No, no, it’s my fault. Do you want anything to drink?” Armie asks. He pulls open the junk drawer and finds his checkbook in the back. A pen on the counter. 

“Ugh, what do you have?” Timmy asks. He’s standing in the doorway like he doesn’t belong. Hands shoved in his shorts pockets and bare feet curling against the hardwood floors. Olive has settled at his feet. 

“Water, Coke, juice, tea,” Armie lists while he opens the checkbook. Writes Timmy’s name and dates it. Signs it and adds, “Beer. Can you remind me how much it is?” 

Timmy takes a step into the kitchen and says, “Ninety for the month. But, you don’t have to--”

“Ninety for the month,” Armie repeats. Asks, “Is it okay if I just do an even two? For last month, this month, and then a bit extra for a late fee? You don’t mind, I’m sure.” He smiles and starts writing the numbers on the check. Rips it off and folds it up. “Did you want that beer?”

When he holds the check out to Timmy, he keeps his elbow bent so he has to come close, closer. Timmy takes it and shoves it in his back pocket like he doesn’t want to know it exists. Wants to ignore the awkward dance of service and payment. “Ar--Mr. Hammer, you know I”m not old enough to--”

“Timmy,” Armie laughs. Rolls his eyes and turns to the fridge. “You’re a college boy now. I know you drink beer.” He twists one of the caps off and hands it over to Timmy, who takes it easily. Whispers, “I won’t even tell your mom.” 

Timmy blushes and backs up until he runs into the counter. “I’m not really, like. I mean, I go to parties, but I don’t--”

“It’s _fine_, Timmy,” Armie assures him. Twists the cap off his own beer and takes a long pull. “It’s just a beer.”

Timmy rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Seems to hold it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. Says, “No, I just. I don’t want you to think I’m just at parties all the time.”

“Aren’t you? I was,” Armie reminisces. “I mean, that was a long time ago, but.” He shrugs. 

Timmy shakes his head. Wraps his free arm around his waist. It does feel cold in the house; there’s a chance the air conditioning is set too high, but Armie doesn’t mind, especially when Timmy’s nipples start to poke through his shirt. “No,” he admits like it’s a secret. “I’ve had a bit of a rough year, really.”

Armie hums and takes another drink. “Rough?” 

Timmy brings the bottle to his lips. Swipes his tongue along the rim before taking another slow sip. “College just wasn’t what I expected.”

“Never is,” Armie notes. “Freshman year, right?”

Timmy nods and continues, “And I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

Again, Timmy nods. Takes a drink. Examines the bottle for a second. “High school sweetheart, even,” he laughs. Rolls his eyes. 

God, this kid doesn’t even realize, does he? Not that Armie has spent much time thinking about him, he hasn’t. But he’s looked out the window when Timmy’s been cleaning the pool. Watched him bobbing his head along to music as he skims leaves out of the pool. Watched him dance around a corner as he makes his way to a drain along the side. 

Seen him trip over his own feet and quickly look around to make sure no one is looking. He’s just the right mix of cute and awkward and Armie knows he shouldn’t want to, but _fuck_ he wants to. 

And he’s here the day before his normal cleaning time. Asking for money that could have waited a day. It surely could have waited until tomorrow. The check won’t even clear the bank for a few days and Timmy is here asking for money that he desperately needs and, maybe, just maybe, that’s not all he’s desperate for.

He bets Timmy would ask so nicely for his cock, just like he did the money and _fuck_ Armie needs to think about anything else, any god damn thing else because right now all he can see if Timmy on his knees, rubbing his cheek against Armie through his swim trunks and asking, “Please?” Just above a whisper and with the slightest air of uncertainty and--

Steaks, he has steaks in the fridge. “Hey, I was going to do some grilling. I bought way too much so if you want to join me.” 

“Ugh,” Timmy starts. But he stands up straight and says, “I don’t know, I should probably get going. You don’t want to hang out with a--” 

“I insist,” Armie smiles. Sucks on his lower lip and pretend he doesn’t notice Timmy’s eyes focusing on his mouth before he says, “Consider it an apology for my late payment. Finish up, Freshman.”

Timmy laughs and brings the mouth of the beer to his lips. Starts to drink and swallow, then has to drink and swallow and swallow and swallow when Armie reaches forward and tips the bottom of the beer back. Watches his throat as the liquid passes and jokes, “Doesn’t party my ass.”

The bottle drains and Armie moves to take the bottle. Timmy’s lips are wet and red and this is really not a good idea. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t he shouldn’t, he--

“You don’t need to do this,” Timmy says quickly. 

Armie sets Timmy’s bottle down and then opens the fridge. Grabs two more and hands them to Timmy. “Do what?”

Timmy clutches the beers to his chest and watches as Armie palms a white package from the fridge. Holds it up and pushes the refrigerator door shut. “Like, feed me and--”

“I want to,” Armie says quickly. Points towards the double doors leading to the backyard and then follows Timmy as he walks towards them. Olive follows along, scooting around their bodies once the door is open. Finds a sunny spot and lays down. 

The pool is calm and everything in the backyard seems to be still. 

___

It’s hot and Timmy says, “Sorry, I’m a bit--” as he struggles to twist the caps off the beers. Inexperienced or sweaty, it’s still cute and Armie takes one of the bottles from his hand. Twists the cap off and lets it clatter to the patio table. Takes the other for himself. 

Presses it into Timmy’s hand and says, “You’re fine.” Turns to the grill and twists a knob. There’s a gush of power as it turns on and Armie says, “So, you broke up with your girlfriend. I take it she didn’t go to your college?” 

Timmy nods. Scrunches his lips to the side and adds, “Yeah, there was that.” 

Armie looks over his shoulder. “What else then?” 

“What?” Timmy asks. 

Armie turns and drinks his beer. Sets it down on the table. “You said, ‘There was that’ like there were other reasons you broke up.”

Timmy is standing near the table, holding his beer in his hand. One hand in his pocket. Not looking at Armie and instead staring at his bare feet. “It’s nothing,” he says. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Armie shrugs. He steps closer to the table and starts to unwrap the steaks. “I was just making conversa--”

“I made out with a guy,” Timmy blurts out, then immediately brings his hand to his mouth. Replaces it quickly with the beer and then looks up at Armie, briefly, so briefly that his glance feels like a lightning bolt. “Shit, I--”

Armie tries not to look too interested, but asks, “You made out with a guy and you felt bad for cheating on her? Or, you made out with a guy and you liked it?”

“Both,” Timmy offers. His cheeks are red and he sets his beer down. Rubs his hands along his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be telling you--”

“I don’t mind.” Armie checks the heat of the grill with the back of his hand. Hovers it over the grate. “You can sit down, you know.” Gestures to one of the patio chairs. “I think it’s cute.”

Timmy sits down with a plop. Scoffs. “Cute? You think it’s cute that I broke up with my--”

“No, I think it’s cute that you’re so innocent,” he teases. Clears his throat and goes to check the grill again. “This grill takes forever to heat up. I really should get a new one.” 

At that, Timmy’s eyes dart up and his mouth opens. 

Armie smirks. 

Timmy coughs. Closes his eyes and says, “Maybe you shouldn’t be tossing tips at pool boys, then.” Opens his eyes and he’s looking up at Armie with these stupidly soft eyes and a slight pout and then adds, “And I’m not that innocent.” 

He says it like a lie, but Armie just laughs. “If you say so.” He grabs the tongs from underneath the grill and goes back to the steaks. “How do you like your steak? And, you better answer correctly.”

Timmy’s lips part and he seems to search for the right answers. Settles on, “However you want me to like it.”

At that, Armie straightens. Stares at Timmy and then clacks the tongs once, twice. “However I want?” 

Timmy licks his lips. Slips down in the chair a bit and spreads his legs. 

“Medium rare, then.” 

_____

They finish their steaks and a third beer and Timmy scratches Olive’s rump. Says, “I really should get going.” 

“Why, do you have a curfew?” Armie jokes. 

Timmy bites his thumbnail and quietly admits, “I mean, I do live with my parents.”

“You have a curfew?” Armie asks for confirmation. “Like a time you need to be in your house? You’re--”

“Nineteen,” Timmy fills in. 

“Nineteen,” Armie repeats, “And you have a curfew? You’re an adult, Timmy,” he laughs. “What if you have a date? Fuck, Timmy, what if they want to go back to--”

“I don’t really,” Timmy cuts in. “I don’t really date _or_ bring people back to my house.”

Armie licks his lips. Sits back in his chair and lets his tongue rest on the corner of his mouth. When he sees Timmy’s eyes struggling to stay away from that point, he lets his tongue dip in and out of his mouth a bit. “Are you telling me you’re a--”

“_No,_” Timmy responds before Armie can get the words out. “I’m not.” 

Armie stands and grabs his empty bottle and reaches for Timmy’s. There’s a sip left, so he finishes it. “Do you want another?” 

“I said I should go home,” Timmy responds. Catches his lower lip with his thumb and lets it hang there. Waits for a response. 

“It’s literally like, six o’clock,” Armie mentions. “You could have another, sober up, and still make it home before your precious little curfew.”

“I’m not worried about my curfew,” Timmy says. “I just don’t want,” he licks his lips and looks up at Armie. Blinks. “I don’t want to be a bother.” 

_Fuck_. 

“You’re not,” Armie insists. “Do you want another? Or something else? I have--”

“Beer’s fine,” Timmy insists. 

____ 

Armie hands Timmy another beer and asks, “So, when do you need to leave to meet curfew?” Smirks and sits across from him. Lets his beer toy against his lower lip. 

Timmy grabs the beer and immediately takes a drink. Wipes his lips and says, “Don’t be a dick.” 

“Not being a dick,” Armie confirms. “I just think it’s cute how innocent you are.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m not saying it like a bad thing,” Armie laughs. “Stop being so defensive. I like that you’re innocent.”

“I’m not--”

Armie kicks his leg out. Gently nudges Timmy’s thigh. “You are. You felt bad about just kissing a boy and--” 

“There was more than kissing,” Timmy admits. Spins his beer bottle, leaving a spiral of condensation on the table. “Maybe I, you know.” 

He stops and looks up at Armie through hooded eyes. 

“I _don’t_ know,” Armie prods. God, he wants to know, though. Wants to hear everything and, yet, somehow wants to know nothing. Wants Timmy to stay pure in his mind. Also wants permission to touch. 

Timmy lets his tongue rest on his lower lip. Spins his bottle again before bringing it to his lips and drinking. Sets it down. “I let him touch my cock.” His legs are still spread and Armie can’t help but glance down at his crotch. Back to his face. 

The word sounds so definitive and Armie knows that’s as far as Timmy went. However, wants to know, “Through your pants or did you let him really touch your cock?” Armie puts his beer down and leans forward. Puts his hand on Timmy’s knee and waits for a twitch, a recoil. Nothing. “Did you let him stroke your pretty cock, Timmy?” 

Timmy looks away. Toys his lip and shakes his head; says, “No, just through my pants. I let him touch me through my pants.” Leans forward as well so their faces are close and whispers, “Fuck, this beer is--I’m sorry I shouldn’t have--”

“You are so fucking cute,” Armie admits and slides his hand up to Timmy’s thigh. “I love how fucking innocent you are.”

‘I’m not--”

And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the summer, but Armie days, “You are. You’re so fucking innocent, and I like it.” 

They look at one another and Olive nudges her head against Timmy’s calf. Looks over at Armie. “Olive, go lay down,” Armie commands (she does) and in the same breath, “Tell me more, Timmy. Did you like it?” 

“Mr. Hammer, I don’t think this is very appropriate,” Timmy whispers. Covers Armie’s hand with his own but doesn’t push it away. If anything, seems to pull it closer, like he wants nothing more than Armie to be the one touching his cock through his shorts. To cup his dick in his palm and squeeze, to feel how he hardens under his touch. “I think I really better be--”

“I think you should stay right there,” Armie says. Squeezes Timmy’s thigh and then stands up. “But if you really want to go,” he offers, “I can get you an Uber.” The wind flutters his shirt, which still hangs lose and open. He’s close enough to Timmy that he can’t tell if the tickle against his abs is from the air or Timmy’s mouth.

When he looks down, he realizes it must be from the air because Timmy doesn’t seem to be breathing. “Timmy?” 

Armie was going to grab another beer for himself. A water for Timmy whose words are starting to mesh together. But now, Timmy’s staring at his crotch and he’s probably standing too close for a professional relationship, but Timmy doesn’t seem to mind. Seems to be salivating at the proximity. Cross-eyed, almost, and Armie can feel his cock starting to fill out under the scrutiny. 

“Do you want me to get you an U--”

“I liked it,” Timmy rushes. Swallows and lets his mouth hang open as he bends his neck back to search for Armie’s face. Finds his eyes and blinks. Floods the space between them with his words that seem to come like waves. “I liked it when he kissed me and when he touched my cock and I liked it when I came in my pants and I think about how I had wanted to touch him and taste him; is that what you wanted to know, Mr. Hammer?” 

Armie swallows and takes a step closer. Slips just between Timmy’s spread legs and, this time, the wet puff is definitely from Timmy’s lips. “You can call me Armie,” he smiles. 

And the little shit bites his tongue between his teeth and blinks at Armie slowly. Once, twice. “I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr. Hammer.” Then he smiles, crooked, and spreads his legs even wider. 

“Why did you come here, Timmy?” 

Again with the crooked smile and Armie is treading water here. Barely able to keep his head above water; Timmy is so much better at this than he is. 

“I came here to collect my money,” Timmy retorts. “Money that you owed me for my services,” he pauses for a moment and Armie knows it’s coming, can already hear it in the air, can feel it rippling across his skin and settling on the tip of his cock and _fuck_ Timmy is good, “Sir.”

God, it’s fucking hot outside. 

Armie breathes in through his mouth. Out his nose. “Really? Because it sure seems like you came here to act like a little cocksl--”

Timmy slaps his thigh and glares up at him. Both sting and Armie’s body jolts for a second. Olive stands up and Armie snaps his fingers; gives the hand command to lay down. She huffs and acquiesces. “Sorry,” Armie whispers. Reaches out and quickly strokes Timmy’s cheek until his eyes soften. Clears his throat and tries again. “Because it sure seems like you came here for something else, Timmy.” 

“Something else?” Timmy questions. 

Armie nods and moves his hand to the nape of Timmy’s neck. “It sure seems like you came here to get something else, and if I’m reading this incorrectly, now would be a very, very good time for you to speak up.” 

“And if I don’t?” Timmy asks.

Armie tightens his hand on Timmy’s neck and says, “If you don’t, then I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” 

“Okay,” Timmy breaks and nods quickly. Catches himself and closes his eyes. Opens them wide and whispers, “But, Mr. Hammer, I’ve never--”

“I’ll be gentle,” Armie assures him. Uses his free hand to push at the waistband of his trunks. Almost laughs when Timmy scrambles to help him pull them down, but disguises it as a groan. 

God, he can’t believe he’s gotten this hard just from talking. From looking at Timmy and thinking about being the first cock in his mouth and the first person to feel that tongue, to watch him take as much as he can and choke on him and--

“Mr. Hammer, I’m a little nervous,” Timmy says. He places his hands on Armie’s thighs and strokes the skin with his thumbs. 

Armie finally touches himself. Strokes his cock once, twice, then presses the head against Timmy’s lower lip. “I’m sure you’ll be a natural,” he whispers and then slowly sinks into Timmy’s mouth. Lets just the tip settle on his tongue for a moment until he feels Timmy’s lips take him in. Firm around his flesh and eager, so fucking eager. “That’s it, Timmy,” he encourages, rocking his hips gently into Timmy’s mouth, watching his cock slip past his lips. Pulls out a few inches before working his way in further, rubbing the back of Timmy’s neck, soft, so soft. “See? You’re doing so well already.” 

He gives a few shallow thrusts, smiling to himself when Timmy moans around him, when he twirls his tongue around Armie’s head, then flattens is under his cock. Tilts his head back and closes his eyes, his entire body seeming to relax and just take, take, take, so Armie presses in further. Whispers, “That’s it, Timmy, just relax, you’re doing so well.” Timmy’s cock is straining in his shorts, so Armie says, “Take your cock out, Timmy. I want to watch you touch yourself while you suck me, want to see how desperate you are for my dick in your mouth.” 

And Timmy, apparently, doesn’t need to be told twice because he pulls back, his mouth popping off Armie’s cock and leaving his lips wet, so fucking wet, and red, so sucking red, and his hand scrambles for his fly. Pulls the button open the zipper down and--

“You’re not even wearing underwear?” Armie laughs. Gives his cock a few quick strokes while he watches Timmy pulls his cock out. “God, you really wanted it, huh? And look at that,” he muses. Reaches down to thumb over the head of Timmy’s cock. “Such a pretty cock, Timmy. Will you let me suck you later?”

Timmy fists his cock and rushes, “You can do whatever you want Mr. Hammer, but please keep fucking my mouth,” and Armie knew Timmy’s reserve would falter eventually, but he didn’t think it would be this quick. Didn’t think his cock would already be leaking precum and his mouth would be hanging open, begging to be used and fucked. 

Armie is a gracious host, so he pushes back into Timmy’s mouth, this time with a bit more force, the head of his cock softly pressing against Timmy’s throat and he explains, “The problem with innocent boys like you,” as Timmy relaxes his muscles. Starts to swallow around his cock and Armie wants to slap his cheek, tell him to knock it off, but it feels so fucking good that he lets himself suspend this false reality for a moment and fucks into his throat, “Is that I let you suck my cock today, but you’ve been wanting to suck it all summer, haven’t you? And now that you have a taste for my fat cock in your mouth, you’re going to need it everywhere, aren’t you? Going to be begging me to fuck your mouth, wanting me to fuck your ass. Want me to bend you over and stretch that little virgin hole of yours, huh?” 

Timmy pulls off his cock and sits back, spit hanging from his lip and stretching to Armie’s cock until the line breaks and he quickly wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Strokes himself roughly and uses his other hand to push his shorts down and off. His t-shirt is bunched partway up his stomach and Armie wants to bite the softness of it. “Armie, I’m--”

“Timmy,” Armie warns. 

Timmy’s head falls to the side and he gives a few hard strokes, the head of his cock leaking precum and, fuck, this is not going to last as long as Armie had hoped. Timmy stills, grips the base of his cock and then apologizes, “Sorry, I’m sorry. Mr. Hammer, I think you’re right. I think I’m going to need you to fuck my ass. Need you to stretch out my little virgin hole and fill me with your come and--”

Armie can’t hold it back and he laughs. Slaps a hand over his mouth but can’t help the giggles from spluttering against his palm. 

“Too much?” Timmy whispers. Winks and slides off the chair turns around and bends over the seat, one arm a pillow for his hand and the other still working at his cock. “I meant,” he corrects and breathes out. There’s a slight waiver to his voice and Armie grins knowing that Timmy is having trouble holding it together.

God, he fucking loves him. 

“Mr. Hammer, you’ll be gentle with me right?”

Armie takes one deep breath. Another. Makes sure his laughs are gone before reaching down and pressing his finger against Timmy’s wet hole. “Timmy, did you touch yourself before you came over?” He sinks a finger in easily. Pulls back and adds another. Timmy’s already stretched, but he loves the feeling of his ass tight around his fingers, sucking him in and wanting more. 

Timmy nods and buries a moan in his arm. 

“Were you hoping to get my cock this whole time? Hoping I’d use your holes and show you how to take a cock like a good boy?” 

Timmy nods again and breathes out, “Fuck, Armie, please,” which earns him a soft slap to his ass. “Mr. Hammer, please. I need your fat cock in me, I want it so bad,” he pleads, wiggling his ass from side to side. 

“You asked very nicely,” Armie admits as he pulls his fingers out and moves to kneel behind Timmy. One knee on the hard patio pavers (and, shit, they should have put a towel down. Timmy’s knees will be a wreck later, but Armie kind of thinks Timmy is okay with that. That he’ll want to feel the burn against his slacks when he gets dressed for work in the morning. And Armie is already looking forward to Timmy sitting on the vanity as Armie cleans his scratched knees. Presses kisses to his inner thighs, the soft bend of his tendons. Maybe traveling south and sucking on his ankle bone, swiping his tongue against his big toe and--fuck, he can’t get distracted now.) and the other leg bending beside his body, foot firmly planted on the ground. “And I can go slow. I won’t make you take it all, not this time--”

“You better give me that entire cock,” Timmy hisses. Coughs, “I mean, I think I can take it, Mr. Hammer.” 

Armie laughs and presses the head of his cock against Timmy’s hole. Loves how he barely needs to push in; Timmy just takes him and opens up for him and takes and takes and takes and fuck, fuck, he’d planned on teasing him more but Timmy is pushing back on his cock and arching his back, his shirt wet with sweat along his spine and, fuck, he’s always so tight, always so good, always so--”Fuck yes, Armie, fuck me with that big fucking cock, Jesus Christ I love you and your dick, fucking use me,”--filthy. 

And Armie can’t keep treading water anymore, so he doesn’t go slow, doesn’t tease him. Doesn’t say, “Do you want just the tip, baby?” Just fucks into him and bottoms out. Grabs his hips and starts fucking him hard, the slap of their skin so fucking loud in the backyard and, shit, is that the sound of a garage door? Fuck, they’d timed this perfectly and, no, no it’s not and fuck, “Timmy, baby, I’m not going to last long, I’m sorry I--you’re just, fuck, you were so,” Armie apologizes and Timmy’s body is loose, letting Armie just use every inch of him and he loves him, he loves him. 

“Come in me, Armie, please, just come in my ass I want to feel you fill me up, want to feel your come dripping from my hole and, _fuck_,” Timmy grits and his arm jerking his cock stills and Armie presses all the way inside, watches as Timmy’s come spurts over the pavers, the chair, probably splashing up onto his shirt and that stupid lion.

And then he’s coming and it feels like an eternity as he drapes over Timmy’s back and lets his body take over. Giving soft thrusts as his cock twitches inside Timmy, giving him every last drop as he whispers, “Love you, love you so much, you’re so good, fuck, you’re so hot,” and a hundred other words he probably doesn’t even register saying into Timmy’s skin. 

When he pulls out, he hears voices and maybe that _was_ the garage door next door and what a way to maybe meet the neighbors. Timmy laughs, “Shit, shit, grab my shorts,” and scrambles for the back door, Olive racing at his heels. Armie does. Covers himself with the shorts and follows suit, almost stumbling over the dollar store kiddie pool they bought for Olive at the beginning of summer. 

_____

“Did you like that?” Timmy asks. He’s perched on the vanity and Armie is swiping at his scratched knees with a cotton swab. “I mean, was it what you--”

“It was perfect,” Armie says. Tosses the swab into the trash can and then reaches for one of the bandaids he’d set out. “You’re a very good actor,” he notes. Leans in to press a kiss to Timmy’s cheek. “Quite convincing as a virginal teenager.” 

God, he can’t believe Timmy went along with it. That he even went out and found the t-shirt at a thrift store, that he called him Mr. Hammer so convincingly. 

“It’s funny you say that,” Timmy says. Runs his hand along Armie’s shoulder as Armie smooths the bandaid over his knee. It hadn’t bled much. “Because _I_ happen to have a fantasy that involves a very stern director and a casting couch.” 

Armie snorts and straightens up. Grips Timmy’s chin and asks, “How badly do you want the part Mr., ugh, Chalamet, was it?”

Timmy swallows a grin and says, “I’d do anything for the part,” and pauses. Grins and Armie just waits for it to kick him in the gut. “Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> bartbarthelme on tumblr.


End file.
